


Honey, I Shrunk The Medic

by Capricorn_Stellium



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, MiniBot Ratchet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capricorn_Stellium/pseuds/Capricorn_Stellium
Summary: Brainstorm and Perceptor have some trouble in the lab, and get into a small altercation. It would have been fine, except they happened to smack right into the support structure for some experimental hardware… Which ended up aiming itself directly at the door, right as Ratchet arrived with the metalloid culture sample as requested.The result? A rather significantly smaller than usual Ratchet.Inspired by some great fan art by fernacular on Tumblr, link to post inside!
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Comments: 28
Kudos: 150





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting fan fiction to AO3, so please forgive me if I mess up the formatting! I'm slowly figuring it out. 
> 
> Originally intended to be a one-shot, it's now a fully fledged fic; I'm posting the first three chapters at once to get things going, but will be writing as I go. 
> 
> All comments are welcome, I look forward to hearing from you! 
> 
> Inspired by this fantastic Mini Bot Ratchet art by fernacular: https://fernacular.tumblr.com/post/628119792323280896/minibot-ratchet

“Ratchet, we’re sorry!” 

Perceptor at least had the good sense to feel a bit bad about what had happened, while Brainstorm was torn between rapidly taking notes and holding back laughter. Never had he been so glad to have a faceplate.

They were nearly stumbling over themselves walking down the corridor to the MedBay, trying to keep pace with a rather significantly shorter Ratchet. It led to a fair amount of difficulty, as their strides were now significantly longer in comparison, but Ratchet seemed entirely focused on reaching his office before he could be spotted by anyone else and didn’t really notice all the shuffling going on behind him. 

“You see? This is what I get for being nice. Bring a ferrous culture, you said! It's just to see how the metalloid sample reacts to experimental mass contraction, you said!" Ordinarily such a furious Ratchet would instil fear in even the toughest bots, given how such a tirade was usually accompanied by a wrench landing firmly against someone's helm, but there was something undeniably comical about so much rage in such a tiny package. 

Not to mention Ratchet's voice, ever so slightly differently pitched in his new miniature size; It made sense that the mass compaction would likely have affected his vocaliser as well. All parts adjusted to fit the new scale... 

Brainstorm made note of it as a minor physical symptom and stored the data in a dedicated folder to review later. 

"Really, Ratchet, I think we could get there faster if you let one of us pick you up." Brainstorm was vaguely aware of Perceptor stepping behind him as he said what they had both been thinking, likely expecting a wrench to fly their direction at any moment. A tiny wrench.

Ratchet stopped dead in his tracks, causing both of them to nearly fall over into the wall. Turning around, Ratchet wasn't quite used to having to look so far up to make eye contact, so he compensated somewhat by standing on the tips of his pedes. Which didn't do much to close the height gap, ultimately, but it made him feel a bit more confident anyway. "Listen up, both of you. If either of you tries to carry me--" 

"Doctor, is that you?"

A familiar voice came from around the corner. They were just a couple turns away from the MedBay, which always had someone buzzing around, and it seemed Cyclonus had reason to seek out medical attention at the moment. 

Whatever his size, Ratchet was ever the professional, and immediately gave a glare to Perceptor and Brainstorm as he spun around to face Cyclonus, who had rounded the corner only to have absolutely no reaction whatsoever to the sight before him.

Ratchet usually found Cyclonus’ stern demeanour to be slightly off-putting, but now, he was glad for it. 

What he didn't expect was quite how large Cyclonus seemed from the point of view of his new statue. How did Tailgate survive? 

"Doctor, has there been some kind of incident?" The slightest suggestion of a threat entered his voice. The last thing Ratchet wanted was for another skirmish to break out; He'd had enough of it today, thank you.

He ex-vented and rubbed one servo over his face. "Yes, actually, and we were on our way to the MedBay to see how quickly we can get it sorted. It’s nothing critical, I would just like a more thorough scan of myself in this state to gather some more in-depth data before we head back to the lab of perpetual disaster and attempt to reverse whatever...this...is." He gestured to himself, a slightly more surly than usual look on his face. 

But, patients first. "How can I help you?" 

To his credit, Cyclonus was only mildly staring, before briefly giving a pointed look at both the bots standing awkwardly off to the side. Perceptor looked nervous, but Brainstorm looked absolutely gleeful, if his optics were anything to go by. 

He cycled his vocaliser before speaking up. "Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt. We are looking for First Aid to deliver an invitation to an Earth film event at Swerve's. It isn't significant, please attend to yourself first." 

Ratchet was relieved it wasn't anything more serious, as he would have difficulty reaching the medical berths in the MedBay given his current proportions. The thought gave him a fair amount of sudden anxiety; He needed to get this resolved before a real medical emergency occurred. On this ship, that didn't leave a lot of time. "That's perfectly fine, his desk--" 

And then it registered. 

"...Who's with you, Cyclonus?" 

As if on queue, a preoccupied Tailgate popped up behind Cyclonus (because of course he did), looking out at what was disconcertingly exactly optic level with Ratchet. 

Or nearly exactly; It seemed that he was somehow just the slightest bit shorter than Tailgate. Not a significant difference, perhaps just a couple inches, but it was a processor blowing realisation that he might just be the smallest bot on the ship now.

It gave him the bizarre sensation that he and Tailgate were somehow the only two average size mechs and the rest of everything and everyone else had all been scaled up massively. 

The effect made Ratchet slightly dizzy, making him take a small, very small, step back to help stabilise himself. Brainstorm seemed to pick up on it immediately. He added 'mild sensory input dissonance' to his internal notes file without saying a word; This was just too good, and even though Perceptor's anxiety was bringing him down a little, as long as no serious symptoms presented themselves, he thought it was fine to enjoy this while it lasted. It certainly made for great research. 

Tailgate, one servo rested on Cyclonus' leg and a small stick of energon candy in the other, didn't seem to register what was going on until the slight shifting of Ratchet attempting to ground himself drew his attention. 

"Ratchet! Ratchet, you're a MiniBot now!" Tailgate subspaced the rest of his energon treat quickly, rushing up and grabbing Ratchet by the shoulders. It seemed that all the weight of authority and the resultant respect that typically came with being CMO was blown away in the face of being far less than his usual height. Ratchet's optics opened wide, not used to being so easily manhandled. Especially not by Tailgate, of all bots. 

"This is so great! I’m flattered! Welcome to the club! I mean we don't have a real club, but it's like a culture, you know? We gotta stick together, we're in a land of giants here!" 

Tailgate calling it out didn't help Ratchet's sense of dizziness any, and he wavered a bit. "Woah, are you okay? Were you on your way to First Aid, too?" Everyone present took a step towards him, making Ratchet shutter his optics in an attempt to balance himself and get his bearings. He didn’t need to be boxed in right now. 

"I'm fine, just experiencing some recalibration problems. It would be best if we went to the MedBay before anyone else runs into us, so if you don't mind..." 

Tailgate, ever willing to be helpful, kept a light grip on Ratchet's shoulders and looked up at Cyclonus. "No problem-- Hey, Cyclonus!" 

Without hesitation, Ratchet could hear the thundering of large pedes and the close-up whirring of servos and struts as Cyclonus swept in and picked him up with ease, tucking him slightly under one arm as he carried Tailgate in much the same manner under his other arm. The fastest way to get the rest of the way to the MedBay. Of course. 

Ratchet was absolutely indignant.

"Hey! I didn't..." Ratchet ex-vented, realising this was probably for the best. He might be hot tempered, but he knew when to pick his battles, and doing this would definitely get him out of the corridor faster. As embarrassing as he felt it was. "For future reference, never pick up someone with sensory disorientation like this, it's a good way to get fuel thrown up all over your armour." 

He could sense a rare wave of amusement coming from Cyclonus' EM waves as Brainstorm complained from somewhere behind them. "He didn't let us pick him up, this isn't fair!" 

Perceptor was last to follow, trying not to work himself up into a panic attack over the fact that they were responsible for the CMO being effectively out of commission until this could all be resolved. 

And, of course, a not-insignificant amount of fear over what Drift may or may not do to them if he should find out what they did to his favourite doctor. 

He was, however, looking forward to reversing it... If they even could. 

Perceptor caught up with them at the door to the MedBay, not willing to get lost in that particular thought.


	2. The MedBay, Part One

“Okay, now that we know you’re stable? Oh my god."

First Aid looked as if someone had just handed him a baby cyberfox, visor glowing with increased energy output, fully focused on Ratchet's tiny legs dangling off the end of the medical berth, nowhere near touching the floor. 

"Just remember that I'm still your boss." 

Ratchet had moments ago finished receiving some new temporary code, designed to help his systems adjust to being a smaller size. Less energy generation was needed to fuel a smaller frame, certain sensory elements needed re-calibration, and his processor got a minor update that would help him cope with all the disorienting little changes here and there. 

Perceptor and Brainstorm were sat in the waiting area; There was no way in hell he was going to allow them to hover over him while he was receiving care, and Cyclonus had the good sense to drop the movie night invitation off on First Aid's desk and leave immediately, much to Tailgate's chagrin. 

He would never say it out loud, but he appreciated the brief support Tailgate had given him. Mini Bots stick together, indeed. He'd have to send him something special after this. Maybe some more of those energon candies he seemed to like so much. 

"Yes. You are my boss. You are also extremely small. And in need of a basic examination to make sure all these updates have settled in." 

First Aid was loathe to turn around as he wanted to preserve every second of this in his memory banks forever, although he did get to work after only a brief pause, turning to some pre-arranged trays to gather up a few simple diagnostic tools. Ratchet seemed to be doing just fine now, but medical protocols dictated a final scan was necessary before he could be discharged from the MedBay. 

He never liked having silent patients; It made the whole process that much more awkward. "So, does Drift know yet?" 

Ratchet shifted a bit on the medical berth. He nearly tipped over, but caught himself. Seems he had yet to get used to having a different centre of balance. Unfortunately there were some things that couldn’t be helped by a few new lines of code. 

"He doesn't, no, and I hope he never finds out. I want my frame restored to its usual state before anything else happens; I hardly want to leave you without assistance should we receive multiple bots for treatment at once. We'll probably be flooded with casualties soon from some ridiculous thing or another." 

Ratchet wouldn't mention it out loud, but he was also worried about how Drift would react; He was aware that Drift had personal traumas around frame alterations. He wasn't sure of the details and wasn't going to ask, but it may be upsetting for Drift to deal with. 

"Something ridiculous... Like this? What even happened? I've never seen a case of instantaneous frame restructuring like this before." First Aid was genuinely curious; It was a bit of a medical marvel, to some degree.

"You'd have to ask Brainstorm or Perceptor for the full details. All I know is that they had called me to bring in one of our smaller metalloid cultures for the sake of an experiment they were running involving matter alteration. Compaction of materials without loss of actual mass, or something. Something about how many times someone can fold a piece of sheet metal before it becomes impossible, whatever Brainstorm was talking about. I'm a doctor, not a…Brainstorm. Although what they're doing hardly counts as science at all, given how slap-dash it all is! Their lab is out of control. If Prowl were here he would have arrested both of them for violating nearly every safety code there is, I'm sure." 

A Ratchet on a rant was a healthy Ratchet, and First Aid was happy to egg him on a bit while the diagnostics continued to keep him distracted. 

"Oh, I don't think they're all that bad. They're both incredibly intelligent. They just work in more experimental ways than most, nothing wrong with that. It's how new breakthroughs get developed in nearly every field, after all." 

First Aid could relate to them, honestly, thinking back to how Ratchet had initially pushed back on his experimental treatment for jumpstarting sparks suffering from the early stages of burn out. Perhaps Ratchet was just an old school kind of mech, despite his own legendarily successful experimental treatments having saved plenty of bots from returning to the Well early during he war, and even here on board the Lost Light he’d pioneered some treatments that were sure to benefit thousands more once that data was received back on Cybertron. 

Ratchet knew what he was playing at and scoffed. "You're certainly not wrong. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy being a Mini Bot, though. I rather liked my frame as it was, even though I’m certainly no speedster.” He couldn’t help letting some of his discomfort bleed into his EM field. 

Hmm. There it was. First Aid wondered if a call to Rung might be beneficial, but held off for now. The threat of being psychoanalysed might just make Ratchet shut down, which wouldn't be particularly helpful. 

"How's it feel? I mean, in general, I know you're medically sound. The scans are all coming back fine, by the way. But it's got to be weird being so much tinier than usual." 

Ratchet suddenly thrust his arms out in front of him, emphasising his even boxier than usual, far more compact frame and the relative shortness of his limbs. 

"This is ridiculous! It's certainly not the worst thing that could have happened, but it's difficult adjusting to these proportions. Everything looks huge in comparison, and I feel like a toy about to get tossed around by a sparkling. And a combat medic frame like mine is already fairly wide to begin with, but I’m almost cuboid now! Even just walking feels a bit strange. I’ve never been particularly graceful, but it feels like I can’t help but stomp around everywhere I go now. I’ll get used to it. It’s just… Very odd, to be unfamiliar with my own frame.” 

And he wouldn't admit it, not to anyone else anyway, but it was intimidating being so small. Everyone else seemed absurdly big to him now, and it seemed to take longer and take more effort to get around the same spaces he was so familiar with in his usual frame. He couldn't be useful in the MedBay because half of the tools were out of his reach and his servos were now half the size, if that, making it hard to operate some of them with the refined touch required for their operation. 

He took comfort in that all of the medical tools built into him still functioned, but they were now minuscule compared to the full size versions. He would likely be able to perform amazingly detailed procedures, and may still be helpful to some degree depending on who came in and with what type of injuries, but there were reasons why there weren't too many Mini Bots in the medical field. And out of the few that were, even fewer were surgeons or trauma doctors. It was just hard to work around the size differences, and medics had to be able to treat any patient that walked in, not just fellow Mini Bots. 

Realising he'd gotten lost in his thoughts a bit, he wanted to reassure First Aid that he was fine.

”At least I'll save quite a few shanix down at the bar. It'll only take me about a shot glass of engex to get completely blasted, given my current fuel cycling rate." 

First Aid smiled behind his face shield. He let it seep into his EM field; He knew he could be hard to read, otherwise. 

"Don't go off and get drunk after this. I'm sure you'll be wanted at the lab. And I think you should call Drift; You know he always comes around when your shift ends anyway, he’ll figure it out eventually. I don’t think you’ll be able to resolve this as quickly as it happened, and to be honest, in the name of safety it might be a good idea to have someone help you out while you still get used to your new frame size. Even if it’s only temporary.” 

Ratchet hated to admit it, but those were all excellent points. Damn. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and kicked his pedes in the air over the side of the medical berth absentmindedly in a huff; First Aid had to hold back a laugh at how strangely cute it was. He wondered if Ratchet even knew he was doing it. 

“Alright, then. Once we’re done here, I’ll comm Drift. I’d rather have him around than anyone else… I certainly don’t want Cyclonus carrying me around like a cargo container again!” 

First Aid didn’t dare mention that in all likelihood, getting carried around a few times was probably unavoidable, given the size of the ship. Swerve managed to do without assistance most of the time, but then, Swerve was… Swerve. If anyone on board truly embraced Rung’s principles of self-care, healthy independence, and frame positivity, it was him. Tailgate was very touch oriented and loved being carried by the larger bots. Given his fondness for Cyclonus, it seemed the bigger the better, as far as he was concerned. And Rewind, while not strictly a Mini Bot, adored riding on Chromedome’s shoulders. 

Briefly, First Aid imagined a tiny Ratchet perched on Drift’s shoulders, barking orders at him during some inevitable medical crisis with his slightly higher pitched voice. It was just as funny as it was stress-inducing. 

In all honesty, Ratchet had been overworked for most of his life, and being CMO on board a ship this accident prone hadn’t done anything to alleviate the strain. First Aid was as concerned as any good medic would be about Ratchet’s sudden and unintended frame alterations, but as a friend, he was glad this gave the CMO an excuse to just… Relax. 

Well, as much as he could given the circumstances, anyway. 

The scans finally finished, the all-clear sounding. First Aid was satisfied, and Ratchet gave the numbers a quick glance, seeing nothing suspicious. Seems like the initial mild glitches were worked out. 

The only thing left was to formally hand over command of the MedBay for the time being, before informing Drift… 

Ratchet ex-vented. “Okay, Aid. Thank you for your assistance. I’m adjusting the medical staff shift timetable, edit it as you need to between yourself and Velocity. I’ve formally given you the CMO commands and you’ll be in charge of all related duties until I’m back to my usual size.” His tiny servos ran over the data pad, entering alterations and signing off on page after page before handing it off. 

First Aid dramatically threw a servo up to his helm, leaning back a bit while clutching the data pad to his chest. “Oh, I’ve worked my entire career for this moment. Finally, I’m a CMO!” 

Ratchet threw him a truly tired look, which didn’t have quite the usual impact owing to the fact that his newly tiny helm framed his face in such a way that it squished his cheeks a little, making his scowl look more like a pout. First Aid straightened back up, still teasing a bit. “Don’t be like that, I had always imagined there would be more fanfare! Happy to take over your duties while you’re in need of some medical leave yourself.” 

“Well, just remember it’s temporary! You won’t be so thrilled with the job when you see all the appointments I had booked in already. Whirl’s due for a rotor examination, you’ll need all the help you can get.” 

Little did Ratchet know, he actually fared well with wreckers, and ex-wreckers, thank you! 

But he let it go in favour of his excitement to see Drift’s reaction. He briefly considered calling Rewind in as well, for the sake of getting some high definition footage of the whole thing. Not wanting to be killed by full-size Ratchet later, he decided against it. 

“We’ll see about that. If I have any serious difficulty, I’ll comm you, but for now just focus on your own situation. Call up Drift and you can be on your way.” 

Ratchet could hear the delight in Aid’s voice, which irritated him, but he opted to focus on just getting this over with as fast as possible. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Drift, but he was worried about how Drift might respond… And he really didn’t want to be picked up again. 

“Alright, just a moment…” There was a soft audible click of his comms device activating as Ratchet considered what he’d say. "Drift, this is Ratchet. Please report to the MedBay for escort duties, there is a patient in need of your assistance. Clear all non-essential work for the rest of your shift and arrive as soon as you are able. Thank you.” 

First Aid rolled his optics behind his visor. “That’s all you’re going to tell him?” 

“Well, it’s like you said, he’s going to figure it out sooner or later.”


	3. The MedBay, Part Two

Drift was absolutely entranced by the scene he walked into in the MedBay, having blown past Perceptor and Brainstorm who had set up a small base of operations to start working on solutions while Ratchet was still being examined, a ring of data pads and schematic sketches surrounding them on the now-cleared waiting area table. 

He was deeply concerned, of course, but First Aid had said Ratchet was fine, just… Atypically tiny. Drift could work with that. They could handle whatever this was. 

Completely entranced by the Mini Bot medic sat before him, whose pedes were still swinging back and forth over the edge of the medical berth betraying his anxiety about the whole situation despite his otherwise calm constitution, Drift immediately kneeled on the ground in front of the berth to get eye level with Ratchet. 

“Are you okay? What happened? You’re so small!” His voice took on a slightly more serious tone, not wanting to downplay Ratchet’s entirely understandable distress. “You’re so small. I can help, whatever you need to fix this. I told Rodimus and Ultra Magnus I was called in to assist with a medical situation. They’ll understand if I need to pass over some of my other duties until after we figure this out.” 

Ratchet, despite how well he was trying to force himself to handle his new size, appreciated Drift’s sensitivity. He was especially glad Drift had put himself on Ratchet’s level straight away; It made it that much easier to talk to him, and he didn’t get quite the strut strain from having to crane his helm upward all the time. He might be smaller now, but he was still just as old. 

First Aid had stepped out temporarily to check in with Perceptor and Brainstorm; He was currently trying to get the two of them to move over to his or Ratchet’s office in the MedBay to clear the waiting area again in case something happened and it started to fill up. 

Brainstorm was putting up some resistance, staying that he was thinking best in a particular seat and it would ruin his process if he had to move so far into his current calculations, which First Aid thought was silly but willing to respect for the time being while Perceptor seemed to have gotten over his initial panic and was now intensely studying some reference material across several data pads at once. 

They could vaguely hear all of this going on through the privacy screens that had been set up around Ratchet’s particular medical berth, but they mostly ignored it. First Aid could deal with them for now. It was even reassuring, somewhat, that they all hadn’t just left. They were going to figure this out. Eventually. Probably. 

“I appreciate your assistance, Drift. I am experiencing a bit of… Difficulty, at the moment, in my current state.” He hadn’t mean for it to come out as honest as it had; Trepidation and discomfort once again surged through his EM field. 

Drift picked up on it immediately and remembered how he had felt the same way when he woke up in New Crystal City, having had his frame replaced while he was still unconscious. Waking up in a new body could be disorienting at best, terrifying at worst. Had Ratchet been scared? Or left vulnerable? 

He didn’t feel good that he hadn’t been there for Ratchet sooner. 

“Y’know, you could have called me earlier and I would have gotten to the lab just as quickly.” He wasn’t really telling Ratchet off, rather, he was just worried that Ratchet was once again trying to blow off something major for the sake of maintaining his sense of professionalism. He didn’t have to be the CMO all the time— He wasn’t even the CMO right now! 

But it wasn’t the time to be frustrated; It wouldn’t help. Looking Ratchet directly in the optics, he smiled instead. “Is it okay if I touch your shoulder? That kind of thing can help centre you in your new frame.” 

Ratchet shuffled a bit. “Technically this is still the same frame, just re-arranged into a severely compact version of it. And Aid has seen to it that I’ve received the necessary alterations to my code to allow for more frame-appropriate sensory input management. But… Yes. That’s fine.” Ratchet paused before continuing, “And you don’t need to kneel this whole time. I don’t want you to pinch a fuel line just for my sake.” 

Drift nodded and sat down on the medical berth next to Ratchet, for the first time fully grasping just how tiny the medic was now. He had previously only really seen him from the doorway of the MedBay and from his lower position on the ground, but sitting right next to him, he realised just how significant the differences in their frame sizes had become. 

Usually, as a speedster frame, Drift was used to being the lighter and less armoured of the two of them. In his typical state, Ratchet was strong and wide enough to handle even the most resilient patient, or to carry much larger bots off the battlefield under fire. But now, Ratchet could easily fit in his lap without any difficulty. 

He had to admit, despite the seriousness of the situation, he liked that idea. A tinier, stockier, slower Ratchet was much easier to protect. 

Of course, it also made him easier to lose track of, easier for him to get hurt… Drift felt a flare of aggression rise up in his spark, not against Ratchet, but against anyone who might mess with him while he was in this new Mini Bot form. 

He got a bit closer, not wishing to push himself into Ratchet’s personal space overly much, but finding it difficult to avoid given that he also didn’t want Ratchet to be knocked off the narrow berth by accident. 

Drift went to reach his arm around Ratchet’s back to rest on his opposite shoulder, but found that Ratchet was so small that it was a bit awkward and left what felt like too much room. Feeling the same, Ratchet leaned more into Drift’s side, shuffling closer to allow Drift to fully wrap one arm around the smaller bot and nearly cover him entirely. 

Ratchet picked up on the flash of tension in Drift’s EM field, which was already ebbing away under the reassurance the casual contact provided. He looked up at Drift, which he achieved by resting his head back against Drift’s upper arm and craning his neck straight up. “Hey, don’t worry. Even in this size, combat medic frames can take a lot. And I don’t think I’ll need to, considering how focused you seem to be on doing a good job.” Ratchet was honestly just relieved that Drift didn’t seem distressed by the situation itself, and that it seemed he was more concerned about potential outside threats. He didn’t want Drift to have to revisit any traumas he wasn’t ready to deal with yet just because of some silly lab accident. 

And he had to admit, being tucked under Drift’s arm was the first time he’d appreciated his new miniature size at all thus far. Drift was larger and was emitting more heat, owing to the higher rate of energy generation required for a full size frame. It was warm and comfortable, being held against his side.

Drift suddenly tensed up. 

“Uh, Ratchet? Are you okay? I don’t know if it’s a Mini Bot thing, but you just made a kind of weird little noise. Are you having problems with your vocaliser? Your voice is a little… Different than usual…”

Ratchet startled a bit. He hadn’t been aware he’d made any noise of any kind! 

It seemed there was some weirdness with his new coding patches, after all. He wasn’t typically so touch positive. Was this a common sensory input feedback response in Mini Bots? It would explain a lot of the behaviour of some of the other Mini Bots on board… And it made sense. His sensors weren’t necessarily any more sensitive than on any other frame type, but the actual stimuli was more significant in relation. It would follow that a bigger response would result. 

He sent a quick and silent encrypted message off to Tailgate, wanting to know just what he could expect from his new frame type. It wouldn’t do to be caught off guard with slightly different tactile and cognitive responses than usual. He was already aware of the medical, physical changes, but there was evidently more in the way of side effects than he had anticipated. He would have also sent the message to Swerve and some of the other Mini Bots he knew on board, but he didn’t want anyone else to be aware of his situation as it stood at the moment, and Tailgate had already found out. Best to keep things low key for now. 

Which was a shame as Swerve could potentially provide some excellent analysis, but he would also inevitably end up telling every single person in his bar about what was going on, and that wasn’t something Ratchet particularly wanted to deal with right now. 

Ratchet flustered under Drift’s concerned gaze; It seemed Drift was also having some automatic responses of his own in the way of slightly compressing Ratchet further under his grasp. It must have triggered Drift’s already more intense than usual need to protect those he perceived as being at higher risk. 

“Er, well, I think it may just be a result of the altered code I’m running for this frame. I’ll figure out all the little details as we go; Not everything is recorded in maintenance manuals. And don’t make fun of my voice, it’s not all that higher pitched, it’s just that my vocaliser has scaled down with the rest of my hardware!” 

Ratchet lightly smacked Drift’s forearm which was still firmly rested around him; It was weird. His whole servo fit within the borders of the single piece of Drift’s plating there, where before he could nearly wrap his servo around the entire thing. In his usual size, Drift’s arms always seemed dainty to him, owing to the differences in their armour specs. But now, the arm laid around him seemed giant to Ratchet, with his shorter arms having to stretch to not-quite-fully wrap around it. It reminded him of those little Earth animals, Koalas, trying to wrap their arms around a tree trunk. 

He was glad his coding had been adjusted already, because this would have definitely sent him for another sensory dissonance loop otherwise. 

While Ratchet contemplated their new size difference, Drift was taking in all the tiny changes in Ratchet’s body while he happened to have him snuggled up like this.

A smaller frame meant smaller wheels, smaller shoulders, smaller servos and pedes. Shorter limbs. Wider waist that made his chest plate look slightly smaller than it usually did in proportion, although it had always been an emphasised feature on his full scale frame. All of this was obvious, but somehow it was taking a while for it to really sink in. 

He was also just ever so slightly chubbier in this compact form. His wider waist complemented the mild alterations to his features. It lent to a somewhat younger looking faceplate and softened his expressions, even though the wear lines were still there as always. He’d never say it out loud, but Ratchet looked healthier like this. Small, yes, but round and boxy and… cute. Very cute.

He felt his faceplate flush while he moderated his temperature; He didn’t want his cooling fans to start spinning, who knows how Ratchet would interpret that! 

But Ratchet felt the marked increase in Drift’s temperature, unable to resist the surprisingly strong draw of the radiating heat from all around him. 

He decided to perform a little experiment of his own; Letting himself relax, he wanted to see if he could catch himself making the “little noise”. 

“Drift, I want to see if I can make that sound again. For diagnostic purposes. Don’t strain yourself, but keep running a little warm if you can.” 

Well, Drift was sure he wouldn’t have any difficulty with that. He agreed, and Ratchet intentionally tugged on Drift’s arm plating, encouraging him to hold him closer, cover him more, so he could keep the heat in a little better. 

“If you get too hot, tell me. Not sure what temperature regulation is like for Mini Bots.” Talking about vaguely medical stuff was something Drift was happy to do, if it helped Ratchet feel more grounded. 

“It seems as though my frame has a higher sensory sensitivity altogether, although that could just be my current perception as I continue to get used to it. There definitely seem to be new internal notifications and hard coded response triggers though, which I want to get familiar with.” Ratchet ex-vented; Drift could feel his shoulders droop a bit under his arm. “Realistically, we don’t know how long I’ll be like this, and I’d rather not risk a full frame replacement as it seems my protoform mass has been altered as well. Nothing dangerous as things are at the moment. But if I’m going to be a Mini Bot, I’d better get used to it.” 

Drift was alarmed; It was a little too defeatist for his medic, who never gave up on anything.

“Don’t worry about being like this forever. We’ll figure it out. First Aid’s helping, and Perceptor and Brainstorm might have caused all this, but they won’t turn away a challenge. They’ll do their best.” Not the most reassuring, but he knew Ratchet appreciated honesty. 

It seems this train of thought had set him off into a mood, however. 

“How can I not worry? I can’t be CMO when I’m too small to reach most of the surgical tools. A good number of them don’t even fit in my servos, after all we went through to replace them!” Ratchet turned his face further into Drift’s side, hiding his expression. It reminded Drift of Tailgate tucking his faceplate into Cyclonus’s armour whenever he was feeling shy. Maybe it was just a Mini Bot thing, to be so physically expressive. It was out of character for Ratchet under ordinary circumstances, and made Drift’s spark waver. 

He had an idea. 

“Hey, you want to get warm? We’re in a MedBay. Are there blankets in here?” 

Ratchet looked up, leaning away from Drift a bit to get a better view. “Hmm. Yes, we should have some stored under each berth. If not, they’ll be in the supply cabinet, furthest on the left.” 

“Hold on a second. Mind if I adjust you?” Ratchet pulled a sour look, which ended up having the effect of puffing his slightly pudgier cheeks into where his helm framed his faceplate, giving him all the appearance of a stubborn sparkling. Drift would never, ever tell Ratchet how adorable he looked; It would cause the older mech to throw a legendary fit, and he didn’t want to be responsible for any blown fuses. “Sure, just don’t lift me all the way. I’m highly averse to being carried, I’ll have you know.” 

“OK, no picking up. Gotcha.” Drift carefully grabbed Ratchet and moved him into the centre of the medical berth, before getting up and digging around underneath it for a blanket. “Aha! Hopefully it’s okay to use this one.” He smiled at Ratchet as he set the folded blanked at the foot of the berth, slowly taking it out of its light packaging. 

“If it’s there, then it’s there in case we need to use it. I’d say you’re fine.” Ratchet returned the smile, but was curious as to what Drift’s plan was. He was also feeling cold after being so enveloped in warmth just a moment before; Whatever it was, he wanted to get on with it! 

Blanket now fully unfolded, fluffed out, and with corners wadded up so that it didn’t drag on the floor, Drift helped position Ratchet to the side as he climbed back on the berth, this time as if to lay down. 

“What are you doing? These things aren’t intended for two bots at a time in this position, you’ll knock me off!” Ratchet was suddenly aware that the distance between him and the floor was definitely greater than it had been prior to his surprise frame adjustments. 

“Nope, stay where you are and lay down, I’m going to tuck you into my shoulder again. With the blanket over us, we’ll retain more heat.” Drift settled in, careful not to hit Ratchet. “Whenever you’re ready!” 

Ratchet had to admit, it was sound logic… And the berth use restrictions had been made with full size bots in mind. He wasn’t worried about what it might look like to anyone else that might come in, this was for science, and at least they weren’t tussling around by a large piece of potentially dangerous experimental machinery unlike some mechs he knew! 

Drift opened his arm and extended it behind Ratchet, allowing him to lay down against his side with his helm rested just under Drift’s shoulder. 

Satisfied once Ratchet stilled, Drift pulled the rest of the blanket up, making sure not to cover Ratchet’s helm. 

Gradually, he relaxed and allowed himself to run a little warmer than usual, an easy task. As it got warmer and warmer under the blanket, he felt Ratchet press himself into the armour around his side, where heat was undoubtedly venting off between where his plating separated around the seams, a common design for speedsters who needed to vent off heat constantly while operating in alt-mode at high speeds. 

It was incredibly comfortable, and Drift was pleased knowing that Ratchet was safe; Nobody could come after his medic while he was so thoroughly covered, surrounded by Drift on all sides. 

Sure enough, Ratchet had relaxed enough that he was fairly limp now, his smaller limbs slowly falling from their grip on parts of Drift’s armour and nestling in further.

Drift almost felt bad for enjoying this so much. Almost. 

It wasn’t long before Ratchet did indeed start making a weird little noise, a sort of small trilling which warmed Drift’s spark— And when he waited for Ratchet’s commentary, he was left with silence.

Ratchet had fallen asleep! 

Drift could hardly blame him; It had surely been a difficult day for him, and who didn’t feel a little bit out of it after an extended medical examination? 

Naturally, First Aid was finally back from talking to Brainstorm and Perceptor; Evidently they had all reached an agreement on securing a more suitable working space in the MedBay for the time being. 

“Hey, how—“ 

First Aid pulled back one of the privacy screens that surrounded them and immediately lowered his voice, too familiar with working around sleeping patients to react any other way despite the utter shock and glee that radiated from his EM field. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

“I was just going to ask how you were both doing in here, but it seems to me like you’ve worked something out!” Even with the face shield, Drift could tell First Aid was grinning from audial to audial. 

“Uh… Ratchet started making a weird noise, so he wanted to figure out what it was, and… Yeah. It’s not what it looks like?” 

“It looks to me like you’re helping Ratchet get some rest, so actually, I hope it is what it looks like. Primus knows he needs it. And you mentioned a weird noise, huh? Well, his vocaliser has been altered to some degree. Seems to me like he was probably nodding off, started snoring, and didn’t recognise the pitch.” 

Of course. Drift felt incredibly silly that he hadn’t figured that out in the first place, but in his defence, Ratchet hadn’t either, for all his medical expertise. He supposed it was probably more difficult to figure something out when someone was trying to diagnose themselves. 

He would put in a good word about First Aid’s bedside manner with Ratchet when he woke up; The effort Aid was putting into not losing it completely was commendable, although he may be additionally motivated to behave by liking his job and generally wanting to keep it. 

Drift replied with the gentlest voice he could manage, not wanting to wake Ratchet from what was clearly a much needed nap. “Yeah, I guess he’s just really tired.” He was definitely deep into a recharge cycle; His ex-venting was shallow, and he felt like a brick of dead weight against Drift’s side. 

Aid walked around to the side of the berth where Ratchet was situated, giving a quick scan to check both of their fuel levels. “He might get tired a lot easier than he used to now; Mini Bot frames don’t require as much fuel or energy output compared to a typical full scale frame, but that also means he doesn’t have much of an energy reserve, and he needs to refuel more often with smaller more interspersed amounts of energon. He’s just not generating the same level of power he used to because his systems don’t see it as necessary, and considering his age, he might need to take additional recharge time, or develop an extended singular recharge cycle. You’re doing him a favour here, Drift!” First Aid gave him a thumbs up. 

“What do I do for now, just lay here?” It felt weird to Drift, to be literally laying down while on duty. 

“Well, yes. Just keep him warm and cozy. Both of you will need to refuel when he wakes up; He’s been through a lot and it seems like you raced over here once he called you and burned up a decent amount of fuel in the process, so I’ve left out some energon cubes for the two of you on the side table. Let him have the one with zinc additives in it, it’s the more shimmery one. It’ll help him keep it down if he has a bout of dizziness again, although he should be mostly fine now.” 

Aid stopped to stand by Drift’s side of the berth. 

“And between the two of us, thank you for looking after him. He’s a tough old mech, but I worry about how much stress he’s under all the time. You know as well as I do he hardly takes a break. Try to use this opportunity to take care of him a little better than he usually takes care of himself, would you? Consider this medical advice from your placeholder CMO.” 

Drift spared a glance at the soundly sleeping Ratchet, comfortably mushed against him, a rare peaceful look on his face. 

“Not a problem, First Aid. I’d be happy to.” 

“Glad to hear it. I can turn the lights down in here, if it would help. I know speedster frames have a hell of a time trying to cycle down outside of typical recharge patterns.” 

Drift was all too aware of that; It was probably the only reason he was still awake. “Sure, go ahead. Keep me updated with silent alerts if Perceptor or Brainstorm come up with anything. You know where we’ll be.” 

“Sure, although unless it’s urgent I’ll probably wait until you’re both up. Enjoy your recharge!” First Aid pulled aside the privacy screen once more and headed back to wherever he’d manage to situate Percy and Brainstorm, no doubt to provide a carefully worded update on Ratchet’s status to the two scientists. 

Watching Aid’s back as the screen closed once more behind him, Drift gently closed his eyes and naturally, as expected, struggled to enter recharge. Instead, he began a prayer to Primus, entering a meditative state, focused on his and Ratchet’s auras.

He found that their fields of colour blended together beautifully, and he was eventually lulled into sleep, determined to stay by Ratchet’s side.


	4. The Briefing

It was decided that Ratchet’s office in the MedBay would serve as a sort of hub of operations while he wasn’t actively occupying it; First Aid could continue to work as placeholder CMO from his own pre-existing dedicated space, and the lab was deemed a bit too risky at the moment. 

Brainstorm and Perceptor were happy to take up temporary residence, moving their various data pads along with some bits and bobs into the office, preparing to settle in for however long it took. It went surprisingly smoothly, mostly because Perceptor managed to convince Brainstorm to going along with it with only minimal complaining involved. Really, it was their fault Ratchet was in this situation, and it wasn’t fair to take him back and forth to the lab given how crowded the hallways were in those areas… Or, y’know, the fact that an actively misfiring frame-altering piece of experimental machinery was still in the lab and possibly retaining an erratic charge. Not an ideal work environment. 

Perceptor had taken some time earlier to message Cyclonus to ask him to keep things quiet, and to try to keep Tailgate from spreading the word as much as possible. He didn’t doubt that Cyclonus had the good sense to avoid spreading the news around, not that he spoke much to begin with, but Tailgate had been genuinely thrilled at the idea of having another Mini Bot around and was more likely to leak the information accidentally or otherwise. It was the least he could do to try to help while they were still sorting out what exactly had happened to Ratchet down to the protoform level and how to undo it; He genuinely felt terrible that he’d put the medic in this situation. 

It was certainly valuable having First Aid’s assistance, as he had already proven himself helpful by preparing materials pertaining to known research on experimental protoform alteration, notes on the chemical elements of sentio metallico, and all sorts of medical information that would have been harder to source without him providing it directly from his personal medical reference net. 

While he continued to help organise a workable miniature lab in Ratchet’s office, he thought about what he’d do if it had happened to him instead, and immediately realised that the biggest problem would be an inability to work at what he loved; Ratchet was undoubtedly upset with not being able to manage the MedBay for the time being, despite the good fortune of having a suitable stand-in around, but that wasn’t the point. The guilt stung, but ultimately helped hone Perceptor’s focus. When it came down to it, he had always been good under pressure, and he converted those negative feelings into a motivational force in the hopes of finding a solution that much faster. 

First Aid for the time being was satisfied with Ratchet’s medical readouts, all indicating a stable and healthy status well within typical Mini Bot averages, with a little variation in certain peak values here and there due to his age. He still wanted Ratchet in for reasonably frequent checkups (depending on how long this went on for) just to pick up on any potential problems as early as possible, should any develop; Things seemed fine for now, but with so much information still unknown, it was worth it to keep an eye on his vitals. Best to establish what his new baselines were, just in case. 

Ratchet and Drift had woken up not that long ago, which everyone else involved wisely chose not to discuss in much detail as even though Ratchet had been handling this surprisingly well considering everything, it had been clear he was slightly embarrassed that he had fallen asleep so easily. First Aid knew Ratchet was hyper aware of his age, and it was likely that nodding off like that had made him feel even older, despite the fact that it was perfectly fine and even expected to be more tired than usual after such extensive alterations to one’s frame. 

Perceptor, Brainstorm, and First Aid were waiting for Drift and Ratchet to arrive before beginning their first real briefing with all parties present for the sake of keeping everyone on the same page. They hadn’t had the chance to go over things together yet, and it would be best to formulate a plan for the time being that everyone could more or less agree on. 

Right on time, the door to Ratchet’s office slid open and to his shame, Perceptor didn’t even notice Ratchet at first, despite him being situated in front of Drift as they walked in. He wasn’t quite used to having to look down to find Ratchet yet. 

“So I see you’ve all colonised my office. Somehow I thought it would be worse- uff, this is a nightmare…” They had left Ratchet’s own desk chair open for him, while the rest of them were sitting in randomly assorted chairs taken from various other areas of the MedBay. It just seemed right to try to make things work out as normally as possible, but unfortunately, Ratchet’s chair was now rather big for him, and he had to step on the ring that sat around the base of the chair’s wheels to hazardously climb up into it. 

Brainstorm, sitting close enough to stabilise the chair with one of his pedes, jammed one lightly in front of the nearest wheel to prevent it from rolling around during the process; He managed to do it quickly enough that he hadn’t been noticed. Or at least, if Ratchet had seen it, he didn’t say anything, instead focusing on trying to avoid tumbling one way or the other back to the ground. 

While Drift hovered nearby, Brainstorm was watching Ratchet carefully as well, undoubtedly taking frantic notes in his processor regarding every little detail. He’d already been given First Aid’s physiological data from Ratchet’s relevant examinations, but he wasn’t the kind of scientist to rely so much on the work of others, for better or worse. He wanted to get a personal view of Ratchet’s current state, any errant behaviour or physical aspects of the frame alterations… 

Drift, however, was looking rather severe as he intently focused in on Ratchet. Everyone knew the mech was protective of Ratchet, and that was sure to be magnified by his current predicament. Certainly, if Ratchet did fall over, Drift would manage to catch him before he could get hurt; It calmed First Aid’s patient care coding a bit, which otherwise would have been screaming in his processor to go and assist— Even though it would certainly agitate Ratchet, who was eventually going to need to learn how to accept help if he was going to have to cope with being his current size for much longer.

Unfortunately, even though he managed to get into his chair, he now came up to an odd height, just his helm and the tops of his shoulders visible over the edge of his desk. 

His surly-as-usual expression shifted to reveal a flash of vulnerability at the realisation he no longer fit at his own desk before waving Drift over, the brief flicker of distress nearly imperceptible… But Perceptor caught it, and shoved down the pang of pity he felt while witnessing Ratchet struggle. It wasn’t helpful to feel pity. It was helpful to get started on planning a viable course of action. Empathy was important, but his skills as a scientist would ultimately be the most helpful here. 

Ratchet ex-vented, not the kind of mech to take defeat so easily, even when the enemy was his own frame. “Listen, I hate to do this to you, it’s ridiculous. But if you’re comfortable with this, Drift? I need you to sit down in my chair, please.” 

Before Drift could question what he meant, Ratchet pulled himself up to awkwardly perch on his desk, sitting flat on the surface and leaving the chair empty. As if reading his processor, Drift wordlessly went over and sat in the now vacant chair and shifted a bit before helping Ratchet climb back down, this time to seat himself comfortably in Drift’s lap. 

Brainstorm and First Aid were clearly struggling to hold back some choice commentary on the sight before them, with Drift placing his hands lightly around Ratchet’s stockier waist to help keep him from losing balance. Even Perceptor found it a rather novel scene, something surreal about seeing a mech with such personality and presence somehow contained in such a small form, seated firmly upright in the lap of a speedster similar to the way a King sits on a throne. 

Ratchet was the first to speak, wanting to get a word in before proceeding. “I know this is a very abnormal situation, but I would appreciate it if we could maintain the illusion of professionalism for a while longer. I would like to thank you for your restraint thus far. I fully admit this hasn’t been the smoothest process for me, for obvious reasons, but I trust you’ve all been hard at work. Aid, I know you have been; I appreciate your attention to your duties, as always.” 

Drift was content to be silent for the most part, as he had little to contribute in the way of science or medicine and didn’t want to end up accidentally derailing anything important once the conversation got rolling, so being a glorified booster seat for Ratchet would have to do for now. He felt somewhat bad that he couldn’t be of more use in terms of actually solving anything directly, but being Ratchet’s assistant fulfilled his desire to help and… to just generally be close to Ratchet, really. No matter what his size, no matter the circumstances. 

Plus, maybe he’d learn something, sitting at a round table of verifiable geniuses. If he’d had an opportunity way back as a young mech, he might have been set off on an entirely different path. But it wasn’t a thought he decided to follow anywhere; He liked where his life had ultimately led him, as hard as it had been to get there in the end. He felt he had been guided by the unseen hand of Primus, and he rather liked life on board the Lost Light. He liked his job, he liked his friends, he liked the weird adventures that constantly popped up… He liked Ratchet.

He offered a brief silent prayer to Primus and shifted his aura wavelength to blue; Calm, reassuring, content. He doubted any of the others present would pick up on his light spectrum alterations, but he couldn’t help how his EM field broadcast his mood beyond that. Ratchet reflexively responded to the soothing EM wave by losing some of the tension in his frame, leaning back a bit more softly into Drift’s chest plate, an unconscious response. It seems Mini Bot frames did respond more physically to all sorts of stimuli, not just warmth. 

First Aid noticed as well, and added a quick note to the file he had been assembling in his processor; He’d add it to Ratchet’s new patient record after their briefing.

It was time to get started. 

As the information he’d gather had mostly already been passed around between everyone, First Aid decided to go first, skipping to newer thoughts and theories. “You’ve all already seen my most current tables of data on Ratchet’s altered frame state; To recap quickly, there are no major health concerns and after some firmware updates to his central coding, all systems seem to be perfectly functional within normal Mini Bot frame averages. There’s nothing to suggest any major deviations from a regular frame, and spark and protoform integration are stable, consistent with those on record for Ratchet previously in his full size frame save for expected Mini Bot differences such as energy generation and output as well as sensory and minor cognitive processing variations owing to newly integrated circuity still settling in.” 

“The only symptoms of anything being amiss so far are typical with any frame integration process, save for some sensory feedback loop dissonance which should now be mostly resolved, some mild evidence of sensory processing differences, and increased fatigue from energy production at a lower level than a full size frame. Ratchet, does that sound accurate to you?” 

From his seat on Drift’s lap, Ratchet nodded. “Yes, that is correct. As we discussed, should any other symptomatic issues develop, I will report them to you. You have my permission to update Drift, Brainstorm, and Perceptor with my medical data as needed to allow for research to progress as swiftly and as accurately as possible.” 

Brainstorm laid a large format data pad in front of everyone, laid flat so the screen was fully visible. Never one to linger when science was to be done, he jumped right in to his own briefing. “Alright, so to summarise, the hardware that misfired was designed to test mass contraction on the lowest possible level, meaning atomic or sub-atomic. Mass contraction in this context is simply a shorthand way of referring to manipulating or otherwise altering metalloid materials native to Cybertron, many of which being as far as we know unique types of metallic matter in the universe, at their core.”

“This is to see if it could have any potential application for purposes such as medical or clinical use in the way of increased wound healing or improving nano-repair functionality, weapons construction in the way of shape-changing slug type bullets or guns that can never jam as components could potentially be shifted internally and automatically to discharge any misfires safely, and so on. Essentially, shape shifting: Can we do it?” 

“It seems as though the answer is yes, but we’re unsure of how, or why the effects of Ratchet’s frame being altered have manifested in the form of… Turning into a Mini Bot, for lack of more distinguished phraseology. The sample that had attracted the beam was a ferrous culture, so I wondered if Ratchet’s spark was a ferrum positive or negative, but First Aid has confirmed for me that he’s on record as being isometric negative, so it’s not the spark energy that drew the focus of the beam.” 

Perceptor jumped in, adding his own commentary. “It’s relevant because at first, we had guessed that the energy put out by a spark might be significant enough to cause distortion or other unpredictable effects when interacting with the raw beam that the hardware emits. It quickly became clear that while our build project certainly works, it seems to be drawn to all metalloid types indiscriminately, including the sentio metallico that makes up the majority of our functional components, and not just benign non-living metals.” 

“We had tested it previously with non-Cybertron derived metal samples, but there was no reaction. This indicates to us that our first area of research should be to determine which elements of metal the beam is specifically changing and on which levels, either atomic or otherwise, as well as what the process of matter alteration is, before we can proceed with much else. Our next round of tests have been in planning and development since we first arrived in the MedBay, and we currently predict we’ll be able to begin the next round of experiments as soon as we disarm the device in the lab. We have enlisted the assistance of several other crew members with laboratory or other related backgrounds and experience to ensure this is done as safely as possible, however Velocity has agreed to be on stand-by in case something goes wrong.” 

There was a brief moment of silence while everyone saved some internal notes from the meeting thus far. Drift was pretty sure it would give him a helm ache to try to examine all of this at once; He was probably going to ask Ratchet to explain things again later, if he didn’t mind. 

Ratchet spoke up first. “Drift, do you have anything to add?” Instead of trying to awkwardly turn around to look at him, Ratchet opted to remain focused on Brainstorm’s data pad. A good decision, as it would likely be difficult to manage while sitting together like this; Drift unconsciously flexed his stabilising grip on Ratchet’s waist, resulting in a mild kick to his knee. That was fair. 

He didn’t think he had much he could say in the face of all the science-talk, but… “Uh, only that I’m cleared from all non-emergency command staff duties in favour of acting as security detail and assistant for Ratchet for as long as I’m needed. Perceptor, Brainstorm, if you need anything in particular for the lab to help figure this out, I can pass it by Rodimus and see if it’s possible to work anything out. Supplies, tools, that kind of thing.” 

Brainstorm gave a quick affirmative, while Perceptor followed up. “Thank you, Drift. Is there anything else anyone feels the need to add or mention while we’re all together? We can schedule further briefings as needed to keep up with any further developments or changes as they arise.” 

First Aid raised his hand. “Sorry, habit from my training days. I think that in terms of medical care, it would be a good idea for Ratchet to start a slightly adjusted recharge cycle, prolonged by a short amount of time but enough to make up for the energy differences of a Mini Bot frame.” He addressed Ratchet more specifically, looking at him from the other side of the desk. “It could be that you’re just getting used to a new frame, which is always a fairly tiring process after a refit or rebuild, as you well know. But just in case you don’t acclimate to it soon, it would be good to make sure you’re not running on even lower energy than you already are right now.” 

Ratchet ex-vented. He knew First Aid was right. “I can accept that under medical advisement; I want it on record that it’s because I’m small, not because I’m old.” Drift nearly laughed out loud. It was good to know Ratchet’s humour was in tact. He liked to think it meant Ratchet wasn’t too miserable, although this whole situation was certainly hard on him. 

A quick nod and some data pad shuffling later, First Aid presented Ratchet with an updated schedule. “Look this over; If it works for you, I’ll send copies to everyone here so they know when to avoid attempting to contact you. It won’t do if someone wakes you up; Drift, I’m charging you with some patient care here. Make sure he gets some actual rest for once.” Nobody made a comment about the surprise nap in the MedBay, which Drift was grateful for. He wasn’t too embarrassed, but he knew Ratchet had been. 

“Looks good to me… I’m not thrilled about it, but it’ll work. And Aid, while you’re operating as CMO, I want copies of updated patient records while you attend to some of my appointments. Inform me of those you’ve had to reschedule so I can update my own calendar for future reference.” 

“That’s fine, but please remember you need to take it fairly easy. You’re stable for now, but let’s try to avoid putting you through too much stress while you’re adapting to an entirely new frame type. You’re off duty, remember. And it’s been a long day; You should head to your hab suite soon while we at least set things up to continue tomorrow. Starting with a clear helm would be good, I think.” 

Ratchet huffed a little, feeling as though he wanted to be more useful than that… He didn’t want to be laying down in recharge while everyone else was still busy. But he couldn’t find any flaws in what First Aid had proposed. “Sounds perfectly agreeable. I’m not sure I like being sent to my room like a sparkling, but your logic is sound. I picked a good CMO.”

First Aid couldn’t help as his optics glowed in response to the genuine praise. “You’re certainly no sparkling, Mister I’m Too Old For Reorganising All These Surgical Tools Where’d Velocity Go, but you happen to be sparkling sized right now, which presents some issues as you’re well aware. It’s safest and healthiest for you to lay low for now and let Drift help you.” Firm but fair. Ratchet was proud of him; He really would be a good successor when that day finally came. He felt the CMO position was safe in his hands, and this was just as good a test run as any to see how Aid would fare if something happened while Ratchet was… Well, coming up a little short at the moment. 

Hearing his name, Drift perked up a bit, excited that the meeting was drawing to a close. Speedsters just weren’t made to sit this still for so long without doing something, even though it really hadn’t been that long at all. “I can’t say he’s wrong, Ratchet. Let’s all finish up here and we can be in contact first thing after we’ve set up, settled in, and gotten some rest.” 

Notes from the meeting were saved in everyone’s processor banks as data pads were packed away and the office gradually cleared, everyone setting about what they needed to do. Brainstorm was the first out of the room, excited to work things out, while Perceptor lingered a bit to say his goodbyes before heading off to tackle some calculations. First Aid simply headed over to his own work area to sort things out for the MedBay in general before heading off shift and handing over to Velocity for the rest of the evening. 

And Drift was left with Ratchet, who he’d ever so carefully let down from his lap. Ratchet looked uncomfortable, probably upset by the fact that most of his own office was effectively inaccessible to him as a result of his Mini Bot frame hardly suitable for reaching most things around them. 

Drift wanted to lure Ratchet’s attention away from the negative mood; He didn’t want the medic’s aura to discolour. “I can check the hallways for an all-clear before we head out. I assume you still don’t want me to carry you.” 

Ratchet scoffed. “Ideally, yes. I’m happy to walk. My hab suite isn’t far from the MedBay, just down the corridor outside. We shouldn’t have too much of an issue getting there without being seen.” 

He did one last check of Ratchet’s office to be sure they hadn’t left anything lying around aside from what Perceptor and Brainstorm had left to return to tomorrow. “So… I’m excited to see your personal suite! I bet you have tons of interesting stuff in there. Any photos of med school sweethearts lying around that I should know about?”

“Drift, if you’re going to mess with me the whole time, we’re still in the MedBay. I’m happy to fall asleep on a medical berth again.”

So was he, if they could do it the way they had before. But he kept that to himself. 

“Fair enough. Let’s get going, then.”


	5. Ratchet's Room, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief fictional drug and drug abuse reference, nothing too heavy, all past tense.

Watching carefully in case anyone came around the corner, Drift stood next to Ratchet outside the medic’s hab suite listening carefully for any chatter or heavy steps that might come their way.

Ratchet was punching in the security code for the door— Or he would have been doing so, if he were able to get to the lock panel, which was unfortunately situated too far up on the doorframe for him to reach. 

“Drift! A little help, please!” He was whispering, trying not to potentially alert anyone that might be around to their presence in the hall.

Drift snapped to attention, embarrassed that he’d been so focused on his personal security duties that he’d forgotten about his personal assistant duties. “Sorry, sorry! Uh, I have to pick you up…” He could have entered the master security sequence that would open any of the doors on this level of the ship, but he didn’t want to seem creepy (this was Ratchet’s personal hab suite, after all) and it was best to let Ratchet have as much control as he could in his current state.

Ratchet hissed at him, “Fine, just do it quickly before we get spotted— And put me down right after, I’m not going to be carried into my room, this isn’t a conjunx ceremony!” 

He raised his arms to let Drift scoop him up, raising the little medic up to the number pad. The door clicked and slid open, and Ratchet immediately started wriggling, ineffectively trying to free himself from Drift’s grasp. 

“Hey, I’ll set you down, don’t start kicking!” Drift nearly laughed, but thought better of it. Even for all of Ratchet’s frustration, in his new Mini Bot size, his fussing and fuming was somewhat ineffective. 

Ratchet huffed. “Pedes on the ground, please! I appreciate your help, but I really don’t want to be spotted out here!” 

Which was funny to Drift in the context of something like this, a relatively benign situation, but it reminded him of why this security detail was so important. If someone else grabbed Ratchet, he might not be able to free himself from a potential assailant, either. 

He shook off his concerns as he followed Ratchet into the hab suite, door swishing closed behind them. 

It was suddenly much quieter, the ambient noises of the ship blocked by the noise dampening material that lined the walls of every hab suite. “So… Nice room? ” 

This was the first time Drift had been in Ratchet’s personal hab suite; It wasn’t quite Spartan, but definitely could be considered somewhat minimalist in design. The furniture all seemed to be in the default layout that all hab suites on board the Lost Light started out with, making the space feel more like a hotel room than a lived in space. 

It was spotless, something perhaps expected of a bot with such powerful medical protocols which likely made cleanliness an imperative in all environments, not just clinical working spaces. That much didn’t surprise Drift. 

But he was surprised by how little Ratchet had in the way of personal items, aside from various medical tools, texts, and related materials. There was a small shelf with different types of energon additives hanging on one wall, and a couple data pads that were slightly older models and clearly contained some much-loved or at least frequently revisited recreational reading, but otherwise Drift would be hard pressed to find anything that existed in the room purely for sentimental value. 

It struck Drift as totally predictable, given Ratchet’s personality and history, and oddly sad. Surely in Ratchet’s long life, he’d accumulated some things that held meaning to him? Perhaps if he did, he left them on Cybertron for safe keeping. But somehow, he got the feeling that wasn’t the case. 

Ratchet’s room was a stark contrast to his own, which was decorated in small items he’d collected along his travels since leaving New Crystal City, clusters of crystals and strands of prayer beads, incense sticks, candles, and small offerings to Primus peppered around on shelves surrounding his sword rack. 

Older items that held significance to him, like his old cloak, some data pads Wing had given him with meditational guides and spiritual texts… Even a small empty syk injection cartridge resembling those he had abused in his earlier life back in Rodion, to remind him of how far he’d come. To strengthen his resolve. To remain mindful of exactly where he didn’t want to end up again. 

He had intentionally twisted the injector needles on it so that it could never be used, just in case, even though it was already empty when he had initially found it. But over time, he became more and more confident that he hadn’t needed to do that; He was in a much better place in life now. But of course, he was proud of himself for having done it, anyway. Wing had always emphasised self control. Self awareness. It was significant to mark progress, to remember, to have perspective.

Drift was the kind of person who collected things like that. Good memories, bad memories. They littered his room as much as they littered his processor. 

Perhaps it was a habit from Ratchet’s war days. Nobody was ever stationed in one place for very long, and being a field medic, he would have been taken wherever the frontlines needed him the most. No time to really customise a living space you’d only be in for a short amount of time, and it was possible the Autobots had rules against decorating private quarters… Not that Drift was going to ask Ultra Magnus about it any time soon. 

Or maybe Ratchet just didn’t see the point of sentimentality, but Drift had a hard time believing that. Ratchet was plenty sentimental, when you knew what to look for underneath all the gruff posturing. He wasn’t just a mech that cared, he was the mech that cared the most. Drift admired that quality of selflessness… But if Ratchet had been neglecting his personal life to this degree in the name of keeping himself occupied with work, well, First Aid had been right. 

His job was to protect Ratchet, keep Ratchet safe, and help him while he adjusted to his Mini Bot frame. 

If that meant helping him relax a little and just… Be a bot for a while, then Drift was all too happy to oblige. 

While he had been taking it all in, Ratchet had caught a look at himself in the full length mirror that adorned a small amount of wall space in every hab suite; Another default piece of furniture left intact from when they had all first gotten on board the ship. Drift had removed his as it threw off the energy in his room, but it seemed Ratchet wasn’t bothered…

…Until now. Ratchet was staring at his reflection. It occurred to Drift that this was likely the first time he was actually examining his new frame from somewhat of an outside perspective; He could finally see how he looked to everyone else. 

Drift wanted to be delicate. It was obviously hard for Ratchet to deal with all this, no matter how hard he tried to blow it all off. 

“I know this is hard for you. But for what it’s worth, at least you don’t look bad. I think being a Mini Bot suits your frame; Strong shoulders and a wide chest plate work well, all shrunk down like this.” 

Ratchet huffed, a somewhat strained but genuine smile crossing his face plate. “I appreciate the effort, Drift, but don’t worry. I’ve never been one to be picky about the details of my frame; Field medics are made to be bulky and plain. We’re designed well for what we need to do, and I’ve been glad for my thick armour on more than one occasion while treating bots under enemy fire, let me tell you that much. You won’t hear any complaints about being boxy from me, it helps me get the job done. It’s just… Incredibly strange, to see your own frame in a form you don’t fully identify with yet. Feels like I’m going to be fighting off the sensation of dissonance for a while, no matter how much Aid adjusts my coding.” 

The little medic lifted his hands in the mirror, turned his helm back and forth, stood on the tips of his pedes, rotated a bit left and right. He was stumbling less and less, gradually getting used to his significantly smaller range of movement and not as prone to over-reaching or throwing himself off balance as he had been earlier. 

Drift was equally taken by how adorable it was to see a tiny Ratchet inspecting himself in the mirror, and by how much trust it displayed that Ratchet was so willing to be vulnerable like this in front of him. His spark swelled, before it was nearly stopped cold by the terribly sad EM wave that suddenly rolled forth from Ratchet’s direction. 

Ratchet had turned to face Drift now, his shoulders drooping a bit. “But all that sensible design and sturdy armour doesn’t matter now that I can’t fulfil my duties. Not to sound Functionist about it or anything, you know I hate that scrap, but… I enjoy what I do. I’ve always enjoyed being able to help. While I’m like this, I can hardly even help myself. It just makes me feel useless and old. Sure, I can use my built in tools for any fine work. And with some time and practice, if need be, I’m sure we can adjust the MedBay and customise some tools that’ll work well enough in my Mini Bot servos. But that implies being stuck like this for a while, and I don’t know if I can cope with the commentary I’m sure to get from the rest of the crew…” 

Drift was alarmed. The last thing he wanted was for this to drag Ratchet into a depressive state. He knew Ratchet had a tendency to lean towards negative thinking patterns; He wasn’t sure if it was a result of enduring millions of years of war, or if it was just a part of Ratchet’s personality to lean towards overthinking things. That type of processor trait was probably good in a medic to some degree for the sake of performing thorough diagnostic functions, but in terms of his own wellbeing, it just resulted in more stress for Ratchet.

And stress was something Drift was there to prevent. 

He had an idea. 

Walking over to Ratchet, he stopped and sat down in front of the mirror with him, putting himself closer to Ratchet’s level. Drift was still so much larger in stature compared to Ratchet’s Mini Bot frame even when seated, but it helped to minimise the difference in height as much as possible. He didn’t want to loom over Ratchet. 

“Hey, I know your job is important to you. But… What about you? I mean as a person, not as a medic. Are you doing okay? Like you said, we’re not Functionists. Aside from your job, what are some other things we need to think about? How can I make this easier for you?” 

He knew Ratchet would’t accept a complete change of subject, but maybe Drift could lure thoughts away from work and more towards other problems they could actually perhaps resolve or work around. Focus more on fixable things, and not what couldn’t be helped at the moment. Rung had once told him that using short, direct questions with people in emotional distress could help pierce the processor fog a bit and help draw attention away from whatever was distressing them without adding more to their cognitive load. Now was a good time to put that to the test.

Ratchet ex-vented, identifying the tactic for what it was, but willing to go along with it for Drift’s sake more than his own. 

“Oh, you want a full psychological profile, do you?” Ratchet smiled despite himself. It was nice, to know someone cared about him for more than his usefulness as a doctor. “While I don’t doubt your ability to defend me, I am a bit nervous about relying entirely on you for so much. I’ve always been a very independent mech, and I must admit it’s somewhat awkward for me to need to rely on someone else like this. Even if it’s only until this is reversed.” Or until he got used to it and could manage better on his own as a Mini Bot, depending on how much Perceptor and Brainstorm could figure out.

Drift picked up on a mild wave of guilt in Ratchet’s EM field, and wanted to catch it before it spiralled into something worse. “Hey, I’m here because I want to be. You’re not causing me any problems at all. I have permission from the rest of the command staff to take as much time as we need, and it doesn’t bother me to help you out; I’d rather do this than have anyone else do it. Can you imagine if Ultra Magnus were here instead?” 

Ratchet couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the suggestion, lighting up his faceplate in a lovely contrast to how downcast he had been only moments ago. It seemed to Drift as though the distraction tactics were working to ease the tension a bit; He set an internal reminder to send Rung a nice bottle of engex for that particular advice. 

“I can only imagine how terrifying he’d look from all the way down here. Did you know, Tailgate is actually slightly taller than I am now? At least, according to my estimation from when he ran into me in the corridor… It’s not a significant difference, but I’ll blow a fuse if it turns out he’s even a full inch bigger!” 

Drift was happy that Ratchet was feeling good enough to start ranting about Tailgate, but he picked up on what he’d said about Ultra Magnus. He didn’t want to ruin the more positive mood, but he needed to know what Ratchet was feeling so he could help. 

“It must be really intimidating to be a Mini Bot on board a ship with tons of huge bots lumbering around all the time. I don’t know how Swerve or Tailgate manage. Makes me glad we have some time to get used to things before engaging with the rest of the crew all that much.”

“Hmm. I messaged Tailgate while we were in the MedBay. I didn’t know what our schedule would look like tomorrow, so I haven’t yet replied, but he’s offered to do a ‘Mini Bot Crash Course’, whatever that means. So long as he keeps it to just us, and perhaps Cyclonus as well, it might be interesting to hear what he has to say.” 

Ratchet finally sat down himself, looking so impossibly small compared to his full size frame that Drift’s protective instincts were triggered again. Was this how Cyclonus felt all the time? 

Because if so, it would explain a lot. 

Drift scooted himself over to be just that much closer to Ratchet, before he spoke up again. “Messaging him was a good idea; He’ll probably have all kinds of good tips and advice. I could do with a conversation with Cyclonus, myself. He has a lot of experience in keeping Mini Bots out of trouble.” He could’t help but tease a bit. 

Ratchet pulled a face, looking faux-shocked and placing one tiny servo over his chestplate. “Me, get in trouble? Never. Not even in medical school, I was top of my class. Perfect grades. Ever responsible.” 

It was Drift’s turn to laugh. “I’ve heard about the Party Ambulance, Ratchet. You can’t fool me!” 

Now Ratchet really did look shocked, the expression slightly concerning Drift. “What, what’s wrong?” 

“My alt-mode, Drift. A tiny ambulance that can’t fit anyone inside.” If Ratchet hadn’t already sat down, it seemed like this realisation might have knocked him over anyway. 

Drift didn’t want to crowd Ratchet, and fought his urge to hug the other mech. “Hey, Ratchet, it’s okay. We’re not Functionists, remember? Besides, First Aid is temporary CMO, you signed off on that yourself. And on board the Lost Light, nobody is ever all that far away from the MedBay. You don’t have to worry about it.” He sent out another soothing EM wave; It seemed Ratchet was highly responsive to EM suggestion now, and although he didn’t want to abuse that knowledge, he also didn’t want Ratchet to have a spark attack. 

Ratchet eased up a bit, but still seemed to be struggling with the realisation. Drift wondered if he should comm First Aid. He could swear Ratchet’s optics were fogging up; It occurred to him that he’d never seen the medic genuinely upset before. It alarmed Drift significantly. “Are you alright? Ratchet?” 

After stabilising himself for a moment further, Ratchet replied, vocaliser lower in volume than usual. “Ah, yes. It seems Mini Bot frames have a few more sensory and processor quirks that I’m still working out. I haven’t identified them all; We figured out the increased affinity for contact and temperature sensory input, but it seems emotional responses activate a much more robust network of circuits. It means that I appear to feel things a bit more strongly than usual… I’ll get used to managing it, I’m sure.” Ratchet ex-vented, shuttering his optics briefly. 

First Aid had been adamant that there were no crossed wires anywhere, but who really knew, with an unprecedented case such as this… Drift added it to his list of concerns to raise at their next check-up at the MedBay. It could just be Ratchet getting used to Mini Bot stuff, or it could be a mis-calibrated something or other, although he trusted First Aid’s competency; It was worth inspecting later, if it became an issue. 

Ratchet continued, after a momentary pause to further compose himself. “While I’m out of the office, I might write up a more thorough medical reference guide on Mini Bot frames. It’s absurd that nothing we have on file mentioned hardly any of this! I thought the days of medical discrimination were long past! We had an entire planetary revolution and an endless war, yet so many institutional problems remain in tact. Someone needs to address this, it could inform treatment options or improve diagnostic methodology for Mini Bots in general…” 

While Drift was happy to see Ratchet recovering quickly, he wouldn’t fall for the conversational diversion and didn’t want the medic to be working all the time, especially not while he was supposed to be off duty for now! “I think it’s a good idea for you to do at least a little writing while you’re away from your duties, so long as you don’t overdo it, but… You said you have an increased affinity for contact. I know you don’t want to be picked up, but we’re on the floor now. Would it help calm you down if I held you again?” 

Ratchet looked a bit defeated, but could’t deny the pulse of stress had gotten his spark spinning a bit faster than was comfortable. He was sure there was some way he could at least go along with it for science…

“…Fine. Perhaps there’s a reason Tailgate prefers to be carried around by Cyclonus so often; It may have a legitimate physiological or psychological effect. You know how nervous Tailgate is, yet I’ve never seen him in the MedBay seeking any anxiety treatment. Let me make a note of my current baselines, and I’l do another internal diagnostics scan while you’ve got me in your arms to see if any values change, and at what rate. We can send a copy to First Aid, it might end up being useful data.” 

“Sounds good to me. Tell me when you’re ready.”


	6. Ratchet's Room, Part Two

It seemed Ratchet could never really stop working; It was becoming very clear to Drift how hard it must be for Ratchet to ever really relax. It was hard to tell if Ratchet was only going along with this for the sake of further investigating his new frame, or if he felt the need to justify his new urge to seek out physical contact more frequently by medicalising it more than he really needed to, Perhaps it was a little of both. 

Drift waited patently for Ratchet to be satisfied with whatever internal notes he was logging, considering if he should mention the medic’s habit of turning everything into work in a short private comm to Rung purely out of concern… He decided he would only go that far if he couldn’t convince Ratchet to ease up a little himself after a little while.

After a few moments, Ratchet seemed satisfied with whatever data he’d managed to file away in his processor, and started to get up. 

Drift made note of how Ratchet struggled a bit to stand up again; His old joints were now also small joints, with more overall weight on them for their relative surface area… He wasn’t a medic, but he could still figure out that age combined with stockier limbs might be causing some discomfort for Ratchet, at least while he was still figuring out the limits and functionalities of his new frame. He’d share his observations with First Aid later; For now, he was watching closely, ready to intervene if Ratchet needed his assistance. 

Ratchet was a bit flustered; His frame had always been a boxy, slightly top heavy one, compensated for by strong lower limbic struts and structure. But in Mini Bot form, it was harder for him to work with his frame design as he used to; His limbs were too short to help him fully prop himself up as he usually would from how he had been sitting, and he wasn’t used to having to find purchase with shorter legs. 

He ended up having to roll over a bit, placing his servos on the ground in front of him then working his pedes up under himself; Drift had never been around sparklings much himself, but he’d seen them in some of Rewind’s old holovids, and it reminded him of watching a young protoform getting used to ambulatory frame movement for the first time. 

It was incredibly cute, the smug look on Ratchet’s face, his grin smooshing his softer cheeks into the sides of his helm where it framed his faceplate. “Ha! And First Aid was concerned I might need physical therapy to get used to my new frame. Nonsense, I’ll get used to it. My balance is improving now that we’ve sorted out the new coding.” 

Drift smiled, glad that Ratchet wasn’t taking his difficulty negatively and was instead celebrating it as an achievement, no matter how minor. It was good for him to start managing things by himself, even things that seemed basic at first. It indicated that he was slowly figuring out how to operate his new frame, and Drift had to admit that it was incredibly cute, watching him glow over it in the same way he did after successfully completing a major surgery. 

At least, it was cute as long as it hadn’t been more exerting than it appeared; Drift realised it was getting close to the time First Aid had advised Ratchet enter his newly extended recharge cycle for the evening. 

He doubted mentioning what Ratchet had bemoaned as “enforced naptime” to him; Drift wanted him to enjoy this small moment of success. It was nice to see his more usual confident expression on his faceplate, even though his features were ever so slightly softer. 

First things first, though: The Test.

Ratchet stood in front of Drift, who remained seated, unsure of how Ratchet wanted to proceed. 

“Hmm. I’m thinking about how best to do this… Have you ever noticed how Cyclonus holds Tailgate, a bit high up in his arms? Tailgate usually rests against his shoulder a bit. We could try that, as it seems to induce a mild sedative effect when Tailgate is upset. If it really is a sensory feedback response, it should relax me in a similar manner.” Ratchet, thinking with one servo balled up under his chin and the other rested firmly on his hip, managed to be adorable while exuding just as much authority as he always did. 

“I thought you didn’t like being picked up?” Drift was happy to help however he was needed, but he just wanted to be sure Ratchet wasn’t pushing his boundaries for the sake of this little experiment. 

Ratchet huffed. “I don’t! But as long as you remain seated…” He realised it would be a bit difficult for Drift to manage that particular type of carry in that position. “…For the sake of research, fine. You can pick me up, this time! But otherwise, I still don’t like it. Generally speaking.” 

Drift slowly stood as Ratchet backed up a bit to give him the space to do so. Carefully, he leaned over as Ratchet stuck his arms out to his sides to allow Drift to gently grab him under the arms and pick up him, proceeding to bring him up to chest plate level and rest him in his left arm, helm rested lightly against his left pauldron in such a way that Ratchet was able to face outwardly while still being secure in Drift’s grip. 

It was the same way they’d seen Cyclonus carry Tailgate around sometimes, especially while at Swerve’s, so that he could still talk to people while Cyclonus kept him up off the ground. Being under everyone’s pedes was a dangerous place for a Mini Bot to be while in a crowded room with inebriated (and significantly larger) bots stumbling around. 

He had to admit, he liked the feeling of carrying Ratchet around. It set his more protective urges at ease, fully confident that as long as he had Ratchet in his arms, nothing could harm the little doctor. Not that they were in any danger now, but… On board the Lost Light, things could get wild very quickly. It was good to figure out acceptable ways to carry Ratchet in case something happened and he had no other choice in the future. 

Although silently, he hoped Ratchet would eventually get a little more comfortable with being carried while he was a Mini Bot, however long it might be. It genuinely would make it quicker and easier to get around the large ship, as well as being generally safer in more populated areas onboard. 

He would just have to make being carried as appealing as possible. Not in any effort to manipulate Ratchet, but rather, out of concern. There were reasons why Cyclonus carried Tailgate so often, after all, although Swerve managed better than just fine on his own. 

Drift backed out of his thoughts as Ratchet had stopped shifting around as much, seemly well settled now with the support of Drift’s arm keeping him nice and steady. 

“Comfortable?” He couldn’t possibly hide his smile, not when their helms were so close together. 

“You could at least pretend like I’m heavy, you know. Let me see, tell me if this bothers you any.” Ratchet nestled himself in a bit, Drift adjusting his grip to allow for Ratchet to lean back into a more tucked in position, pressed into his chest plate a little more firmly. 

“I think it’s the warmth that matters most. The heat that bleeds from your spark chamber as well as your vent system all comes together around your armour seams here, making it one of the hot spots on the Cybertronian form. Some armour types reroute the heat, but only very specific frames. Most bots have this type of heatsink arrangement, and from what I recall, Cyclonus is much the same.” Ratchet’s voice was slightly quieter; Drift wondered if he noticed. 

He’d give it a moment before he reminded Ratchet of the second set of measurements he had wanted to take. These calmer moments were the best part of all this, although Drift didn’t want to make it seem as though he were glad for Ratchet’s struggle. He wasn’t. It was just enjoyable, being together like this, without fear of being interrupted by other duties. For now, Ratchet was his duty, and he was happy for it. 

“Seems like it’s a very pleasant feeling. If I had been the one to get zapped in the lab, I’m pretty sure I would have just climbed you and then never let you put me down.” Drift’s EM field was relaxed, leaking out waves of peaceful happiness at the thought. 

“Are you kidding? If you had a Mini Bot frame, I don’t even want to know how hard it would be to catch you. A tiny little speedster zooming around these halls? You’d go straight to Rodimus, then you’d both be in the MedBay within minutes, and I’d have personally wrapped you helm to pedes in a fire suppressant tarp to keep you from running around in circles while I dealt with whatever Rodimus managed to do to either you or himself between time of incident and time of arrival.” Ratchet’s voice took on the ever-tired tone of the CMO voice he used when telling off people who ended up mildly injured while doing something foolish, although with much less energy than usual. Drift started to think that aside from recharge time approaching fast, there was definitely something to the theory that being held acted as some kind of calming force for Mini Bots. 

Perhaps that’s why Swerve didn’t really like being carried. He was fairly high energy, and might not like feeling sedated. Or maybe there was a whole Mini Bot thing about this… Drift was looking forward to meeting up with Tailgate and maybe Cyclonus later to see what insights they could provide. 

“Why do you think I’d go to Rodimus? Or that we’d get hurt somehow?” Drift was teasing a bit, but was genuinely curious to hear what Ratchet thought of him in little ways like this. It was interesting. 

“Because the command bay is where you usually work; Most people in a panic tend to return to familiar patterns whether they mean to or not. And I’m sure Rodimus’ idea of playing with a new Mini Bot includes his flames, somehow. Hence the tarp.” Ratchet flashed a sleepy smile, teasing him back. “I’m going to start the scans now, all you need to do is keep holding me like this. It shouldn’t take long at all.” The soft beep of Ratchet’s built in diagnostic scanner went off; It would beep again when it was finished. “It’s running a physical scan as well as a processor scan, to get a better idea of my overall readings. The more data we can gather, the more we have to work with and try to figure this all out.” His words were getting a bit slower, although they maintained clarity.

Ratchet was fully relaxed, and briefly Drift was concerned Ratchet would fall asleep again. “Hey, for what it’s worth? I would have gone straight to you. Even in a panic. And it’s getting close to your newly appointed recharge time; Not to make this weird, but if you fall asleep before the scan ends, do you want me to set you on your berth?” 

“I think it’s already plenty weird, Drift. I’m not too concerned about that at this point. I do think it’s a good idea to recharge after this; These kinds of scans are intensive enough to use up a fair amount of energy. I had planned on replying to Tailgate at some point this evening, but I think I’ll do it first thing when I wake up instead. No good sending a half-thought out reply.” Ratchet didn’t deny that he’d been falling asleep again. Seems like First Aid had been right about needing more extended recharge, which Drift was happy to assist with. 

Typically Ratchet would have fought a little harder, or perhaps a lot harder, against an early bedtime. Drift knew Ratchet didn’t like to be reminded of his age, as often as he brought it up himself, and it was clear that requiring more rest than usual bothered him. But it seems the test was successful; Being held in a certain way definitely seemed to have some kind of effect, at least. They could examine it further with First Aid when they next met up. 

“Oh, and Drift? If you’d like to move in temporarily, we can adjust my hab suite tomorrow to facilitate another berth; Officer’s quarters are more spacious, and we could certainly manage it given how little else I have in here.” 

Drift’s spark fluttered. 

“I’d be happy to move in for the time being; Although I have to tell you now, I’ll have to bring some basic meditational tools… While you’re recharging, I can send a message to Cyclonus to see if he’ll be in attendance, or I can just join in your message chain with Tailgate, whatever works.” 

He got no reply; Ratchet had fallen asleep again.

Looks like he’d just have to belay that task. For now, Drift was happy to set him down on his berth, ever so carefully kneeling down to ease Ratchet from off his shoulder. He made sure Ratchet was comfortably situated, carefully plugging in his recharge cables from where they extended from their ports just under his forearm plating. 

It warmed Drift's spark, that Ratchet had felt safe enough with him to fall asleep like this. Sure, some of it was whatever was going on with the new frame coding, but he doubted Ratchet would have tested this theory with anyone else. He would process how that made him feel later, in meditation in his own hab suite. 

The scan alert suddenly pinged, indicating it was finished, and he briefly worried it would wake Ratchet up… 

…But instead, he just rolled over onto his side, the soft hum of the charging energy coursing through his cables was the only noise in the room, as Ratchet twitched a bit in his sleep. Bringing his tiny servos up to his faceplate, he made a little soft sound with his vocaliser, but didn’t wake. 

Drift could hardly stand how sweet the sight was; Ratchet looked so adorable on what was now a massive berth compared to his frame size. 

He turned off the lights and left a message for Ratchet to comm him when he woke up; For now, Drift was going to head back to his own hab suite to get his evening prayers and meditations finished before heading into recharge himself. 

On his way out, he made sure to engage the door locks again, sparing one last look around before smiling to himself and heading out.


End file.
